


Higher Purpose

by OKami_hu, Synthetic_Soul



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Hermaphrodites, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Omnic Sex, Omnics, Pre-Canon, Trust Issues, artificial heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 14:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11991981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synthetic_Soul/pseuds/Synthetic_Soul
Summary: The Omnic who later became known as Tekharta Zenyatta haven't always been a Shambali monk, neither did he have a name. A meeting with Mondatta changed that; and revealed a lot even Zenyatta hadn't known about himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Pain** was many things to many different beings. The tangible loss of normalcy, the lack of optimal function or sensors screaming at you to cease what had induced this and the emotional distress this could cause. It ached, it distracted, to the point of delirium for some. It was more than the simple cumulative processes of synthesised synapses, it had to run deeper than this, because if it did not, how could he tell that he was really a soul among others, that he, in his own little way, was really alive?

The omnic knew he was, now more than ever, but for how long this would be the case, remained to be seen.

The ever present bleeping inside his head casing fizzled in and out to the static hiss of damaged auditory sensors, but not so badly that he could not tell if his attackers had fled the scene. Thankfully, and this was a case of small mercies, one of the assailants had hit the side of his head hard enough to prompt his systems into executing an emergency shut-down, essentially rendering him the omnic equivalent of unconscious for the moments it took for the same processors to run a quick diagnostic.

The fail safe was designed to protect he and those like him, from anything from a surge to temporary immersion in a body of water, and definitely wasn’t meant to be permanent. Luckily, for him at least, the thugs believed they had done what they had set out to do, end a life they believed wasn’t worthy of the same rights as their own.

It would have been easy to hate them, fear those like them for they were everywhere, but this omnic could not. Part of his programming, an overwhelming, overriding force inside of him told him that he required contact with them simply to exist, to alleviate. That was his intended purpose in life, preordained since before his consciousness had been initiated. His time with them would ease the burning in his wires and joints, cool his systems even when the acts that were asked of him caused him immeasurable pain for a short period of time.

The incessant bleeping continued, warning after warning about how his internal workings had been compromised, scrolling through his mind. A quick, optical check showed Everything was still attached, more or less, but he could feel some of the components beneath his chest plate judder from side to side when he attempted to pull himself into an upright position. Dents pock-marked his plating, no longer smooth in texture but scuffed, scratched and littered with deeper abrasions. He tried, servos grinding against one another, to lift himself up, but the hydraulics that allowed him to move, as human would, had been ruptured in one leg. He was now left with the undignified choice of hopping…providing his other leg was functioning and almost certainly risking displacing his core, or dragging himself to a quiet, out the way place where he would not be mistaken for scrap.

There were omnics in this city, he had seen them, few though they were, going about their lives as carefully as they could, steering clear of much interaction. Oh how he had craved to be able to do as they did, to be free of the incessant heat, which assailed him now more than ever. But the streets were absent of their presence now…perhaps the battered, failing omnic now understood why. Here he lay, out in the open, the wrought iron bar used to beat the life out of him resting a few meters away, surrounded by the evidence of the attack, all because that was where he’d managed to throw it before a shove from behind had sent him off balance, clattering to the floor, systems failing. He was now living on backup, and that was not self perpetuating like his every day power, this would run out eventually.

Hand over hand the omnic began to claw back some ground, segmented fingers were now worn bare. Finding purchase on the unforgiving pavement stone, hauling his uncooperative body to the side of the street he had seen wary onlookers. It was not late, but past time the streets would have been filled with people going about daily business. Occasionally, humans would pass him by, spare the unfortunate bot a glance out of the corner of their eye, but no more. If his head swivelled in their direction, they would quickly avert their eyes, content to act as though they had not seen the pitiful sight. He was leaking fluid now, the breach in the hydraulics having begun to divulge its contents in slick streaks along the concrete. And each time he pulled himself forth a marginal distance, more spilled from the numerous, deep punctures, a trail of fluids left in his wake.

Somehow, be it sheer will and force of determination, he made it to the side of the road.

There was no time for silent congratulation, time was of the essence, and someone round here would have to pay attention eventually, help him, take him with them! He had no home to speak of, no place to shelter, no comfort he could seek. The only 'home' he had ever known was one filled with pain, anxiety and the ever present threat of displeasing the unsavoury characters his masters had demanded he spend his time with. Knowing no better, he had not done so without resistance. Resistance, the omnic had learned, earned you dents, the painful and system-threatening agony of complete submersion in water and the strung out agony that followed it, regardless. 

Oh he had learned to submit, if only for his continued survival. 

A deep, basso rumble emanated from the sky. 

As if to add insult to injury, the heavens above, their grey, clouded skies pregnant with the promise of a downpour, opened up and rain began to fall in unforgiving torrents.

Wonderful, the rain would find a way into his damaged body, slip through the cracks in the usually water-resistant casing, and hamper all of his efforts permanently. He did not wish to die, yet if no one would help him live, what else could he do but hope? 

Footsteps, heavy, but slow, hit the pavement somewhere behind him, the distinct grind of concrete on metal...or was that merely himself? He wanted to roll over, or crane his neck back to look, to reach out in a plea for help...it was all too much.

He was able to drag himself a few more, feeble inches before the keening sound inside his head suddenly ceased, and all he knew was silence, the all eclipsing darkness that followed it.

. . .

“ **Hello, friend, can you hear me?”**

Words, clear and synthesised, bled into his auditory sensors to accompany the sudden surge of energy that filled his systems anew, but not his vision… _‘Where am I?’_ Optical sensors remained inert, unresponsive, although his was all too aware of the warmth radiating from the space that surrounded him. The textures beneath him did not allow him to experience the sharp, grating sensation of metal on stone, but it was not pliant either. Wood then? _'Wh…what happened?’_ The memories soon came flooding back, a tiny trickle at first, the flicker of images, people, places, terrifying surges of fear responses acting out of turn…and then all at once, he knew – _'That street, the ambush...'_ They had meant to harm him, kill him if they could. Their words had confused him more, spat with such hatred for reasons he could not comprehend. Somehow, he had displeased them greatly, and when his masters discovered this -

_-No!_

He had to get away, grasp at anything he could defend himself with before they could send him back to them.

Without warning, the omnic pushed himself upright, ignoring the startled cry of whoever was standing next to him, hands grasping around aimlessly, trying to clutch at anything and everything at once, a frenzy of irrationality.

“Leave, Nibodh, I’ll deal with them myself.” ‘To deal’, that sounded ominous. Still, nothing much happened. There was the sound of hurried footsteps, something flapping, then- something changed subtly in the air, a shift of energies, a _presence_ …

“Please calm down.” The voice had a distinctly familiar ring to it. Not a human’s voice-

“You’re safe here, among friends. There’s no need to panic. No one is going to hurt you, I promise. Please calm down. Listen to my voice. You’re safe. Look at me.” The voice had an astounding quality. It oozed the same calm it pleaded for, it sounded firm but reassuring, gentle, kind… Things relatively unknown to omnics. 

“Welcome among the Shambali, my friend. Are you feeling well? You will not be hurt again while you’re here. Please trust me.”

For the tiniest of moments, panic's place was taken by a hesitant curiosity. Both voices had not sounded human, the unmistakable timbre and multi-tonal qualities of synthesised vocals, the kind only a vocal emitter could reproduce on a whim. Omnics, then, he was among omnics? Perhaps, but they were the only ones speaking.

Slowly, he allowed his hydraulic tendons to relax, arms falling back to his sides from their defensive posture. But his optics still remained woefully unresponsive and when that hand reached out, brushed against him, he flinched dramatically, a startled sound emanating from his own vocalizer.

All the calm words and patience in the universe could not have quelled the panic that had taken hold of him prior to his being here and it dwelt within him still. Not until he could see, with his own optical array, that all this was really what that serene, radiant voice said It was. Not until he knew this wasn't an elaborate ploy to return him to where he had come from.

“Trust?”

He knew that word, knew it within the context of others deigning to speak it to him, and also knew that he could do nothing of the sort. They always hurt him, always, there had been no exception. He did not know what a Shambali was.

“I – I do not understand. Please, my optics are not functioning as they should.”

Had he the peace of mind to check, he might have noticed that one of the vital red cables, that ran from his main, expansive spinal column, directly into the back of his cranium, was disconnected. It was a simple task to reconnect, simply plug it in and, if everything was in correct working order, his optics would come online instantly, with little more than a flicker.

Trembling hands, unsure as they were unsteady, groped around the age-worn surface of the bench, trying to feel their way over every knot and fissure. He wanted to know just how close the others were, if there were more of them here with him and, if he was still intact.

“Oh!” The synthetic voice rang with honest surprise. “It must be something trivial, we took care to repair you. My friend, please- cycle some air through your vents, it’ll help you cool down. Presently, only we are in this room, you’re safe, I do not mean harm. With your permission, I’ll check you, see if I can bring your optics back online. I’ll have to touch you for that. How about we go on slow? Place your hands in your lap, then on count of three, I’ll touch them. Just rest my hand on yours for a few moments, then I’ll trace up over your arms. I won’t break contact, so you won’t be startled. Does that sound acceptable?”

Hesitance quivered in the newcomer's limbs. It was not unknown for omnics to lie. They, like humans, had the capacity to retain free will, after their release from the god programs installed in them by the omniums. Yet there was something about the way this one spoke, a calm serenity that was intricately woven into every last word like fine, silken thread.

He obediently placed his hands out before him, the movement feeling far smoother now he had the presence of mind enough to move in a controlled way. But the tension never left him, nor indeed did the ever-present heat building inside his core. Cycling his fans to intake went a small way to cooling his systems down, but it was not anywhere near the levels required to quench it completely, forcing him to shift uncomfortably on the spot.

“It does,” he agreed, waiting, mind screaming at him to recoil regardless of how kindly the voice speaking to him sounded.

In the past, distractions of the mind had kept him from running from what he faced, when he knew there was no alternative, but could not face the pure, blinding panic that would bubble up from within his cortex. In those moments his mind went elsewhere, focused on something, anything other than the present in order to survive. Of course, that had not helped him when the threat was very physical. Perhaps that was why he failed?

There was a brief pause, a strange stillstand in the air before the other omnic spoke up agin. “If that is a concern for you, there are no humans here. You’re at an old human building, a monastery, but omnics are occupying it now. As you might have figured it out already, I’m an omnic, too. We’re all your brothers here, and we only want to see you well. Please allow me to help.”

“Humans are everywhere,” he responded dryly, distant.

It wasn't that he didn't believe the omnic speaking to him. Perhaps he believed that there were none here, but he had seldom found a place where their kind had not managed to find a means to exist, even the most inhospitable of lands.

“Well, yes, to be precise, the nearest human settlement is about five miles from here.” The other’s voice carried amusement, and judging by the noises, he was shifting closer. “The terrain is quite rough, so they only come here if there’s an emergency and they ask for our help. This place is quite unlike what you’re used to, brother. Now, I’ll count. One… two… three.” 

A metallic hand settled on his gently.

Fingers twitched beneath the contact, but to his credit, he did not draw his hands away. Instead, he considered the other's words. A human settlement a mere five miles away, and they allowed the omnics to exist here, cohabited what was, realistically, a small space of land peacefully?

Confusion's place was taken by nervous realization, when he felt those hands slide up over the wrist plating, along the sensors in either arm and up, up further still, to his shoulders. A smooth, seamless glide. The dissonance, or what he perceived as such, shivered in response, eliciting a warmth that had his fans working a little harder to vent more of the heat.

He set his mind to discovering more, still hesitant, afraid of what he might see when his vision was restored to him, yet inexorably curious about the picture this omnic was painting.

“The humans do not venture here? Are you not afraid they will take this place from you?”

Despite his lack of ability to convey a visual expression, he canted his head slightly, allowing the other access to the cables back there. A vulnerable position to be in for numerous reasons, but what choice did he have? He could not navigate well without his optical array online, and in a place that was unfamiliar to him, too, upped the odds against him.

“These are simple people. The war was kind to this place- as in, our more… assertive kind did not venture here. They were wary first, but they benefit from our presence, so they don’t bother us,” the mysterious omnic explained. “Oh yes, I can see it now. One of your cables isn’t connected, I’ll fix that in a second. Thank you for your trust. You’re very brave.” His voice- it _shone_. It did not change much, vocal emitters weren’t capable of imitating the full range of human emotions but still, somehow- This one managed to convey a warm smile with his voice alone.

The unruly cable was carefully picked up and slowly inserted into its respective socket. Along with the soft click, light poured in.

It was blinding at first, even in the dull, artificial light of the room. To be in darkness for so long took a toll on the sensors, which slowly began to adjust to the rapid shift in glare.

The first thing he managed to perceive fully, was that he was looking down at his own legs, still a little battered or scratched in places and a cursory turn of one limb allowed him to flex the mechanised tendons within, their movement smooth and free of the tell-tale scrape that had signified their malfunction before. Beneath him was, as he had suspected, the wooden bench, every bit as age worn and darkened by time as he had imagined. This room – or was it workshop – was fairly small, with a thick layer of ornately woven fabric covering the open doorway to keep the cold at bay.

From there his gaze swung up, and to the regal figure withdrawing his tentative touch to clasp his hands together in a posture that appeared almost strangely approving. His helm was not too unlike the newcomer's own, barring it's polished bronze fittings, vocalizer and matte white face plate, which was, he noted, slightly chipped just beneath one of the vents that served as a marker for 'eyes'. Perhaps one of the few signs of wear on him. The frame was similar to his as well, slender, proportional, but it was partially covered by a deep red fabric that draped on the floor where the other omnic sat on his heels. The glowing dots on his forehead formed a diamond. He did not make another move.

“What is your designation number?” Those words had spilled forth before he could hope to reel them back in. A quiver of regret instantly ran up the cabling which had just been replaced.

He had no name, as such, but he'd always had a number. Humans did not care to know what that was, the last vestige of where he'd come from, something, some small comfort, he had to cling to in terms of his own, fraying identity. He knew others had them too, those omnics who were fortunate enough to remember. Perhaps the other did not know, and that was why he had not inquired about his own.

A low but soft chuckle replied to the question along with the other’s head tilted downwards a bit, a sound and a gesture he later became so fond of. “We believe that we have surpassed our intended purpose and therefore, we do not regard each other as mere machines with designation numbers. We all adopted names here; if you feel like it, you can take one for yourself later. We also have a- family name if you will: Tekharta. But I am known as Mondatta.” He bowed his head gracefully, hands pressing together in a greeting. 

“I am the leader of the Shambali monks, and you, my young friend, are most welcome among us.”

“Mondatta?”

Names, they gave _themselves_ names? It had never occurred to him that he could do so. The, as yet, nameless one's posture straightened a little more, giving off the impression he was far more confident than he was truly feeling. How could one be more than that which they so clearly were? He _was_ a machine, what more could he possibly be?

“My designation number is 73N-4114.” He explained amid a static crackle which marred the last few numbers, his nervous disposition was betraying him again. It was only a mild distraction from the elevated temperature of his core systems.

One of his hands found the other, clasping itself to it's twin, segmented digits worrying each other while his mind deliberated everything that he had heard. There was much Mondatta spoke of that made absolutely no sense to him and he was loathe to explain as much lightly. Not understanding something the initial time it was explained to him, had, in the past, seen him on the receiving end of outbursts of rage. This omnic seemed to patient, so… warm. 73N did not want to change that, furthermore, he could not think of another means by which to attain a level of understanding without asking.

“Apologies, but the term 'Shambali Monks' is not known to me. They are the other omnics you spoke of?”

He lowered his head, appraisingly, optics already seeking the best means by which he could escape if necessary. That was how it always went after he had initially managed to slip the attention of his masters. A new danger around every corner, a new reason to map your ways out before you committed to going in.

“Allow me to explain. If you have a question, don’t be afraid to ask it.” Mondatta settled back into a cross-legged position, smoothing out the fabric draped over his frame. 

“We checked your system time, so I know you weren’t online when the Omnic Crisis began. However, I awoke to consciousness during its first days. The omnium I resided on was shut down, like all the others, but with the awakening of the God AIs, it came alive and began to churn out soldiers with only one purpose: to wage war on humankind.

“Aside the newly built units, there were several others, yet incomplete, of various purposes; laborers mostly. The assembly lines weren’t cleared off before the shutdown. War has no use of laborers though, so the omnium began to transform them, adding weapons and armor, reformatting them into soldiers. If I had stayed, the same fate would have befallen on me as well, undoubtedly.”

Mondatta paused, his hands nervously curling up, much like 73N’s. “I cannot tell you how I avoided it all. From what I managed to gather, I was assembled at a separate, likely illegal workshop, far from the factory itself. I was not intended to be a warrior either, quite on the contrary. When I realized what was happening, and what might happen to me… I panicked. Somehow, I managed to slip away and I ran, as far as I could.”

73N tried to recall a time before he had awoken in 'that' place, the place where the humans he would come to fear had taken him after his completion. It was a time his memory could hark back to on the day of his activation. However, it was fragmented at best.

Flashes of imagery, gargantuan machinery, towering monoliths beneath the blanket of harsh lights of plasma cutters, spot welders and the ever-present rumble of the production line. The memories were there, merely buried, pushed aside in the wake of what had become of him. He'd always known he had a purpose, one that would have occupied the vacant emptiness within one of many facets of his mind, yet he had always been bereft of its presence.

That had not been the purpose he had been retrofitted for.

Was Mondatta suggesting that he, that they -

73N drew his legs up slightly, slowly, at the kindling of thought that evoked in him, silently thankful the limbs were working again to enable him to do so.

“I have memories, but I do not believe they are of this 'omnium.'”

He did not want to ask, part of him feared how he, himself, would react if he knew the truth. Here stood an omnic who, for all intents and purposes, had escaped the cruel reality 73N had believed to be his lot in life. Was that reality so far out of reach for himself? He would proceed gingerly.

“Yet I was assigned a purpose, a function. I...I still do not fully understand...and I am curious: what was your own?”

Mondatta looked up. “Judging by our frametype and advanced AIs… I’d say, it was the same as yours, my brother. I might have been a custom order; that would explain why I was assembled off the main line. Whether this, or my - our - unique programming allowed me to slip the God AI’s attention, I cannot tell. I only know that there are others, like you, like me gathered here. Some I led away from a life probably you had to endure; others were found on dormant omniums. The humans scavenge whatever they can find, so it is possible that they completed you and brought you online, with the intention to make you fulfill your predestined purpose.”

The lights upon 73N's forehead brightened for the most brief of perceivable seconds, a sliver of resonant electricity coursing through his fame. When they dimmed again, the light was diminished more so than was optimal, his presence a tad more withdrawn. Oh he wanted to relax, he wanted to feel the same sense of peace that Mondatta seemed to radiate, yet when he had spoken of the kinds of service 73N had certainly seen, it was hard to keep the welling anxiety at bay. His body squirmed noticeably at the mere thought of it, the memory of hands clamoring to take hold of him, wrench him this way and that. How far were they from the city, from the pain of a life he wanted nothing more than to leave behind him. He just needed to trust a hope.

And then, there was this place, everything that lay beyond this very room.

“I do not wish to return to them.” A resolute shake of the head, he had made up his mind.

“You don’t have to,” Mondatta soothed. “You can live with us, here; if they track you down, the entire community will rise to your defense.” He rose to his knees, holding out a hand for 73N, not touching him, merely beckoning. 

“I know that you’ve been wronged, and that you cannot trust easily. But you must try. There is so much more to life than just suffering and betrayal. Life can be filled with beauty, light, and a purpose - not the one our programming determines. It is possible to overcome it, and I’d be more than happy to show you how. If you place your trust in me, I’ll reward it with love and guidance, I swear this to you. Come, 73N. Let me show you around, if you feel strong enough. Maybe seeing our dwelling will put your mind at ease.”

73N took a long, hard look at the visage of the omnic across from him.There was no hint of a lie in his tones, no waver, no static, just calm assurance that what lay out there was his to experience if he wished. All he had to do, was take those first, tentative steps.

For a moment, he completely forgot the nagging heat cloying at his systems, a nervous excitement quelling it for the time being, and slowly, carefully slipped his legs over the side of the bench, placing one foot, then the other, on the cool stone floor. Mondatta was there to offer him a hand, just as he had earlier, and this time? This time 73N took it. What did he have to lose?


	2. Chapter 2

The view was certainly breathtaking from the mountaintop monastery; possibly that’s why the humans of old have built their dwelling here. There was nothing around but rocks and the sparsest of vegetation; and the endless sky, and more mountains in the distance. The air was crystal clear and chilly but that hardly bothered the omnics living here. 

Parts of the building showed some wear, but most of it was neatly patched up, a sanctuary in the making. Banners waved in the wind, the sound of chimes ringing in the air, entwined with the distant hum of electricity.

Not a single human was to be seen. Anyone that could be spotted was an omic of various frametypes going about their daily work. A huge, lumbering guardian-type was sitting on an outcropping, watching the plains unmoving. Some laborers were cleaning up, patching a roof here, sweeping a courtyard there. Two omnics reminiscent of Mondatta and 73N were fixing another banner to a pole, so it’d join the rest.

None of them had any sort of softer outer plating, but all of them were wearing clothes - simple shrouds with twisting belts that didn’t hinder their movements. It made for a curious sight.

The tranquility was almost palpable all around, the silence, the peace blanketing everything.

“How do you like it, my friend?” Mondatta questioned. 

With so much to take in all at once, it took 73N a moment to register he had been asked a question at all. All sensors and synthetic synapses sung alive with the sights, sounds and even the subtle shift in temperatures, as they moved from place to place. And through it all, one thing was a constant, discernible force: Tranquillity.

Each omnic they passed was dressed as similarly as the last, yet each was set apart from the last by a few key individualities. Many bore the nine optical lights, but not all, while others, perhaps initiates themselves, only had a select three or four.

The faint whir of Mondatta's servos brought the significance of his address back to the forefront of 73N's mind, so he paused and turned to face him. Suddenly, he felt very exposed. While the omnics here all wore clothes, he wore little besides the hastily tied and tattered wrap that kept his modesty. It had never been suggested that he require them – he was a machine, a _thing_. Things did not require clothing. But even he could not deny that the sights he saw around him, had far surpassed his quavering hope.

It was as if he were standing in the midst of a dream, and yet his had never been this fantastical. There was no hiding the awe in his voice, the childlike way he clasped his long-fingered hands together, a slight tremble in the intricately put together joints.

“I...It is _wonderful._ ”

Mondatta chuckled, clasping his own hands behind his back. “I’m glad you like it! When I came across this place, it was worse for wear, but years of diligent work have turned it into something that fits our purposes. This area is where most of the work gets done - archiving, assembly and repairs and planning. We are striving to make our dwelling aesthetically pleasing, something that helps us immerse in worship. The village below is meant for visitors and pilgrims - we get them once in a while, though their numbers are increasing. There are many who get interested in our teachings, omnic and human alike.”

There was a slight falter in 73N's precise movements. Humans listening to the talk of omnics? Now he really _had_ heard it all. He'd caught a glimpse of the village during their walk, just visible through the morning haze, still clinging to the mountainside. The snow glittered, offering up a bright white glare that seemed more argent than the sun itself. Somehow, he could see himself here, happy, content. Such concepts were rarely so simple though, and he still had many questions. The time for one had presented itself, too.

“Worship? You pay reverence to something here.” He intoned keenly, rearranging the cloth that clung to his hip mechanics, “But I see no evidence as to what that is.”

There was no offense meant on his part, of course, but when your mind was full of questions that had no visible answer, those questions had a habit of overflowing quite regularly.

Mondatta didn’t seem to mind at all, though. “No higher power would ever present itself in a tangible form. The gods the humans worshipped and still worship don’t show their faces - believers claim they work with small miracles, little blessings. Sometimes, they grant their followers exceptional powers, and that is how we know we’re on the right path. 

“The Shambali worship the Iris, a cosmic power that is ever-present and lives in each and every one of us - humans and omnics alike. Everyone here have felt its calling. We discovered its light inside us and realized that we are more than just the sum of our parts; we possess a soul.” He placed his hands on his chest solemnly. 

“This is what I preach when I travel, and some of the brothers have taken up the torch as well. We tell this to the omnics and the humans too, trying to guide them towards an understanding, a peaceful coexistence. We may have been made by humans, but the Iris granted us with something they couldn’t fabricate, and this life force flows through us and them both, so we ask them to treat us like brothers. The Omnic Crisis wasn’t fought by those, who started it, and it’s been over for several years, anyway.”

An interesting concept if ever there was one, definitely not something 73N had considered before now. Ignorance was certainly not bliss in this instance, but neither was it his fault.

Emboldened by Mondatta's candidness and mirroring the other's posture, hand pressed lightly against the gold-plated hexagonal plate at the center of his chest, he considered for a moment, deliberating and digesting everything he had just learned. He had a soul? And what was a soul exactly? That was his pre-programmed logical mind speaking, a process, designed and integrated should he get ideas above his station – and 73N often had many a moment tarrying with everything he should not. At least in the eyes of his masters.

But they were not here to bring him, forcibly, into line now. What they could not see, could not harm either one of them.

And speaking of things one could not see,

“If you cannot see the Iris, how do you ascertain it is there?”

He tried to remain where he was, furtive in his curiosity. Although he had begun to relax, explore, there was still the remnants of a past life, shackled, proverbially, to his ankles, weighing him down. And the enduring heat had begun to creep up on him again, pool within his systems, gnaw away at his thoughts from within and taint them. He could only withstand so much. Worry momentarily gripped the nervous omnic once more – what, then, would he do?

“You may not be able to see it… At least, not at first. But you can feel it. You can use it.” Mondatta’s hand came to rest on 73N’s. “Our programming sets a clear purpose for us. Defend, attack. Work, repair. Nourish, protect. Count, calculate. Serve. But the Iris grants us something else, too. A sense of identity, a willingness to rise above ourselves and the power to do so.” He clasped his hands behind his back again and faced the valley, looking out into the distance. 

“During my early travels, my path still lacking a destination, there was a point where I nearly died. My programming was trying to best me, I was injured, aching, half mad… My thoughts chased each other without control. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live, because I had seen so many horrors in that short time and I refused to believe there was nothing else in this world. There had to be something. Why were we fighting? It made no sense. There was no offense and yet we retaliated; there was no intention to make us feel, yet I did. I was terrified. And- I began to wish. I wished if I could lead omnics away from the AIs controlling them, to show the humans that they created marvels. I wished if only I could do something, change things, and I offlined my optics and I kept on wishing and wanting so fiercely; I kept repeating ‘I want to live, I want to help others. I’m going to make this my purpose, because I’m more, I have to be more, _someone_ has to be more-” His voice wavered. 

“And then, while I kept wishing… a miracle happened. I saw- a light, so pure and warm, shining like the sun but not blinding; and my dying body was filled with heat, energy, it made me feel like floating, it made me feel alive! And then it was gone. But my wounds were no more. Torn cables and mangled circuitry were gone, I could walk and my faceplates were wet with coolant. I was confused, I had no idea what happened. I looked up at the sky, glimpsed the stars and suddenly I realized how small I was. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But still, this didn't make me lose hope, on the contrary. I realized that I could do something, try and change the order; maybe not stop the war but heal the wounds it inflicted. I could teach others, make them see the same light that flew through me. That’s how it all started. I realized that there was something out there, and later I realized that it is there for everyone, we only have to look inside.”

Mondatta tipped his head down and chuckled. “I suppose I’ve given you a lot to think about, didn’t I?”

Perhaps it would have surprised Mondatta, perhaps not, but 73N listened with a higher level of understanding that the other omnic would come to realize much later down the line. The truth of the matter was that yes, he had felt it too, the inexplicable notion within him that he was more than his makers had made him, more than they had ever told him he could be. It had been there all along, from the moment he had been activated to this exact moment in time. The spark of free will had been the ignition to all of this, and while 73N may never understand, fully, where this innate ability had come from, the omnium that birthed their design, the Iris itself, he could not deny that it was very _real_.

His optics flickered in the bright sunlight, gaze dropping to his two metallic hands. His masters had told him he was incapable of feeling as they did, and yes, perhaps physical touch was different. His hands were not pliant, fleshy and warm like theirs. They could detect heat, pressure, static, and his sensors could have told him when those hands or his body could not withstand whatever they were doing. He had believed them then. Feeling, though, was not mutually exclusive with the physical. It went far beyond that into the realms of that which a person could not see, and yet it existed, he knew it did. Was it such a stretch of the imagination that the Iris was real too? No, it was not.

Like Mondatta, he had felt fear, he had felt pain, he was capable of happiness or joy and compassion, he was _emotive._ His masters had been so, so wrong. He was more than just a machine and for the first time in his short life he actually truly _understood_ this. There was much to learn.

A small whir preceded 73N raising his head, optics refocusing when he glanced in Mondatta's direction, however, his attention was fixated on the sight of the statuesque building behind him that was framing his otherwise modest, lean frame. Around them, other monks moved, going about their daily tasks, neither deterred nor made curious by the newcomer's presence. It was as if he was always meant to be here.

“Perhaps you have.” 73N replied cryptically, inclining his head somewhat affirmatively as he did so. He had been thinking this entire time, he had plenty more to absorb. And he had to wonder, if he, too, could somehow find a way to see, or feel the powers imbued by the Iris as Mondatta had, would he finally be able to make sense of what was so abhorrently wrong with him?

That part of him, the fine, hidden threads of the fabric of his being returned to taunt him, quietly, from the shadows and the embers still smoldering away unseen to all but himself.

“And in time I wish to understand it all...if I am able.”

“I’ll guide you personally,” Mondatta bowed. “I enjoy teaching others. If you have more questions, a request, anything, don’t hesitate to speak up. Now, let me show you the inner sanctuary. That is where we like to meditate the most. We have a long way to go still, but we achieved half the goal already.” He placed a careful hand on 73N’s back as they walked. 

“You’ll also get a room in the village. So that you could be alone, should you desire it. Meditating and working your way through so much information is better done without distractions.”

Surprise evident in his posture, 73N canted his head slightly, unsure of what to say. That this omnic would go out of his way to bring him here, spend the time and due care that it took to repair what most would consider reason enough to scrap him, went way beyond the realms of touching and selflessness. For those things alone Mondatta had his eternal gratitude, but offering to be his guide on this exciting journey? Did he really think that 73N had the potential to be as one of them? It made his circuits grow warm with what might have been considered a blush, frame practically vibrating with repressed excitement, which Mondatta could surely feel when he placed a guiding hand upon 73N's back.

He gave a little nod enthusiastically, the words catching within his vocalizer, mind trying to process it all. Oh he had questions, many of them and the only reasons he had not voiced them all was because he did not wish to bombard Mondatta with the plethora of queries all at once.

Everything was so new, vibrant and brilliant, 73N simply didn't know where to begin except for – _ah_...yes, there was one thing.

“Am I to have a name, also?”

His optics bright, he peered at Mondatta curiously. How did one go about choosing a name for themselves, or was it done for them? Humans named their offspring, named their pets, but he was neither offspring nor a pet. A name should have meaning, he supposed, so perhaps it was too early to decide what his should be. However, if this really was a new beginning, then 73N-4114 needed to begin to set aside all that was in favor of what would be.

“If you would like to.” Mondatta nodded. “Most here do have names, to indicate that they’ve started a new life, on the path toward spiritual goals. Some claim they glimpsed their new designation in the Iris. I was named by a kind human during my journey. There is no rush, it’s an important decision. You might want to spend a little time with us before choosing.” 

He guided 73N into a building that was dark after the daylight glimmer of the outside world. The vast space was only illuminated by warmly glowing candles and a few windows; the halls remained shrouded in semi-darkness, creating a mysterious, peaceful atmosphere. It showed that omnics claimed the place for themselves; the windows all bore the same design, reminiscent of both a tree and circuitry patterns.

“This is the Sanctum,” Mondatta gestured forward. “In the middle is our power core; it provides us with the energy we need to run our equipment. We have access to all the information stored online, we monitor the perimeter - there are weapons being installed as we speak. Hopefully we’ll never have to use them, but we’re not about to be cattle should someone decide that omnics have no right, not even in the middle of nowhere. Come, take a closer look. We find that it is easier to focus inside when we’re close to the core. I’ll teach you how to meditate and then… You can embark on your own journey, if you please.”

With so many things to take in at once, it was easy for 73N to go where the flow of energy took him - energy was something the sanctum, in particular, had in spades. Not simply because it housed the core, that fed power to much of the monastery and its out buildings, but there was a strong, heady resonance here that the young omnic couldn’t quite place his finger on. It ebbed and flowed freely through the sanctum’s cavernous spaces, rose and fell with the light breeze emanating from the ornate windows and welcoming open doorways, permeated every single thing it touched, including 73N himself. It called to him, welcomed him with it’s warmth and had he been a little less deterred by past experiences of false welcomes, he might have found it soothing. 

His optics slid a wary, sidelong glance at the monk beside him, metal fingertips curling nervously against his palms. Mondatta seemed no more bothered by the energy than he was by the gentle breeze whispering through the large structural pillars. That much, at least, went a long way to settling 73N’s anxiety. 

“I can feel it.” He voiced, timbre a tad more assured, belaying none of the wonder he was experiencing, “The energy here is strong.” 

And all that came from the core? Perhaps. There was plenty of time to discover more. 

73N followed Mondatta down the long, high vaulted hallway, until the last shafts of daylight were mere dapples upon the stone floors, the rest of the way lit, in part by candles and oil burners. It made for an interesting mix of the old and new, because these omnics so clearly had the means to create something far more advanced in order to light the space, had they so wished. Everywhere he looked there was symbolism, and he did not even realize it yet. One day, he hoped to understand it all.

The end of their current path took them to the centre point of the sanctum itself, and to the 

Serenely rotating projection rising up from the machinery within the floor. Bright, golden rings of color spiraled out from a thin shaft of light at its epicenter, drawing the eye upwards toward the ceiling. It was there that the room was most open to the elements, and yet, no snow lay upon the machinery directly below it, nor did there appear to signs of damage where water could have seeped in through the seams. 

“I have never seen such wonders.” 

73N gingerly stepped forth, skirting the edge of the large, golden disc set partially into the decorative stone floor. His optical array glittered curiously, the lights forming a steady, consistent pattern before they stilled completely, indicating his attention was very much fixed within the moment. He wished to reach out and touch the silent rotations, but refrained. If here was where the energy was at it’s strongest, he did not want to risk either himself nor whatever this creation was for the sake of mere wonderment. 

“Omnics created this?” 

Perhaps it wasn’t such a stretch, he could have been creative if he had truly been allowed to reach his full potential. But to merge that creativity with that of others would really be something. 

Mondatta nodded. “We all work together. Those, whose function was building and creating have vast possibilities here, and the rest helps them out. We didn’t only abandon our functions but gained new ones. Here, anyone can indulge in personal interests.”

He walked closer to the golden projection. “When we came here, this place was empty. We filled it with life and power, and while it is imperative that we stay humble, we can still take pride in our achievements. This is the work of our two head engineers. I had a vague idea how it should look like and they realized a final plan. I’m still awed when I look at it.”

He glanced at 73N. “You said you can feel the power in the ar. Would you mind indulging me? Offline your optics and listen for a little while, tell me your impressions. Different individuals pick up different things and don’t react to them the same way; I’d like to hear your opinion.”

A spike of disquietude peaked in his systems, pandering to the anxiety that had clung to him so closely of late. If he were to offline his optic sensors, 73N thought, then he would have little to distract him from the oily, cloying insidious heat that, even now, crept up on him from the darkened recesses of his mind. When he gave it the opportunity, it would collate and pool within him, forcing his cooling systems to work that little bit harder to prevent an overload, which he felt was a certainty if he didn't fight it consciously. There were other, more crude methods of dealing with it, of course, but those options were out of the question here.

All that and more flashed through his mind in the few seconds pause it took for him to contemplate just how he could refuse outright, without beckoning forth a series of questions he was uncertain he could answer. In there end, there was no choice, 73N took the risk.

“As I am able.” He only wished he felt half as confident as he had sounded.

Optical array dimming, he nodded, offering a verbal hum of consent as the world around him gradually faded to black once again.

Only...it did not -

Where the unforgiving cold of darkness would have enveloped him, he felt warmth, a light he could not see but he could _'feel'_ it. It was there as if 73N could have reached out and touched it. Surrounding him, lifting his tired, heavy limbs, coaxing his mind into being still, content to just feel. But that was the problem, his whole, short life he had _felt_ , and he was tired of feeling – the pain, the distress, the inevitable betrayal each time he risked trusting another being. He wanted to trust Mondatta – yes, 73N realized, he really did – but he did not know this unknown medium, what would happen if he just let the walls around him burn and truly listened.

“I-It is vast, so vast...” 73N murmured, the static built up by his own anxiety and that continually rising sensation inside of him marring his words, “...it is as if I could reach out and touch it. It feels pure yet -”

A long pause permeated the air between them, the slight tremble returning to the younger omnic's limbs. He couldn't do this, he did not know how to open his mind completely and just let it in. Lingering here like this would be a mistake, his mind chided, incessantly berating him for the foolishness of throwing caution to the wind.

“-I am afraid.”

“We all are.” Mondatta’s voice was steady, low, reassuring. “It is so new and foreign. Should we dare to hope? What if we fail? What if it’s an illusion and we end up broken and numb, shattered beyond repair? These thoughts, however, clearly show that there is more to us. You cannot program hopes and dreams.” His powerful aura grew stronger, indicating that he moved closer, but he did not touch. 

“Forgive me for unleashing so much on you. There’s no need to hurry - you are new here and young too, you can just stay back and observe for a while, fall into a familiar pattern until all this doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. I told you that you can ask and make requests, but also, if you’d like to talk, about the past or the future, please seek me out. Winter is coming up, travelers will be scarce and I’ll have a lot of free time - the rest of the community can progress fine without my guidance. I will listen to whatever you wish to tell me.”

A shift in proximity would have, normally, spooked the nervous young omnic, but Mondatta had, so far, proven himself to be more trustworthy than most. His aura was as comforting as it was perplexing, but closeness also brought with it, one unfortunate side effect 73N had never considered until now, if only because it had never been an issue before.

The strangeness he had been experiencing, urges, ingrained within his systems due to what he could only assume was a fault, would gravitate towards such moments, cloy and purr pleasantly, like a contented cat, forcing his cooling to work harder to keep him on an even keel again. This was fast becoming a problem he was struggling to pin down and shelve, a nagging worry that taunted him with the sure fate of inevitability. What happened when it became too much to ignore?

Pressure pooled in parts of his frame that was bearable for now, but it presented with it a new set of problems 73N did not wish to think on at this moment in time. Be it pure nerves or not, he quickly reactivated his optics, startling a little, a silent jolt running through his body, when he found Mondatta right in front of him, that same, matte white helm and bright blue lights looking back at him expectantly.

“N-no...” 73N responded, a little too emphatically for his liking, shaking his head gently from side to side, “...Do not apologize, I wish to be a part of this community and that will require I learn and I am grateful for all you offer. I only hope I do not disappoint.”

And he had so much to catch up on, if this little sample was anything to go by. Slowly, the steady whir of his internal systems began to dull to it's regular rhythm once more, the moment of concern lapsing back into the darkness again. It was only now that 73N realized that he'd held one hand flush against his partially dented chest plating the entire time, letting it slip, lackluster, to his side again in a single controlled motion.

73N hesitated, knowing that at some point in time he would need to divulge the small matter of his past. That Mondatta had been somewhat forthcoming with his own had surprised him, it was admirable. There was much he could learn from that, he supposed.

“I have questions I must ask myself as well as you,” he confessed, “I have never fully understood my existence, why I was appropriated for such things. I would like to understand.”

' _I feel broken, not as I should be, incomplete_ ' – 73N's mind drawled on long after he had finished speaking. The words remaining locked away in his mind, potentially tainting his already chaotic aura. But there it was, he was not ready. Not yet.

He raised his optics, then motioned down at his frame with one hand. It was almost a flourish of a gesture.

“But perhaps my beginning with the basics is best. I believe I require something to wear.”

Mondatta nodded with an amused little whir. “Certainly. Come, I’ll take you to the right person for that.” He headed out of the Sanctum. “You might find it unusual at first, but some clothing at this climate comes handy. It keeps you from getting wet too soon, and there are psychological advantages to it… For some reason, humans seem to take you more seriously when you dress like them. The only catch is that omnics aren’t designed with that in mind, so tighter clothing can get caught in our joints. It’s not dangerous though, merely uncomfortable and not easy on the fabric. The robes most of us wear are very similar to those human monks use all over the world. It makes people assume we’re mostly harmless practitioners of a peaceful religion, and they aren’t wrong about that.”

“Sometimes the humans I knew would give me clothes.” 73N recalled, calling to mind the strange ensembles they would insist he wear. Tight enough that they did indeed get caught and snagged in his joints and flimsy enough he would ruin them, which would, in turn, make his masters angry before shoving him out into the cold again. That, like most of his memories, was unpleasant to say the least. 

“I do not believe it made them think any different of me.” - No, indeed, they had simply noticed him _more._ What he didn’t fully grasp was why. 

The pair traversed the grounds, with Mondatta pointing out key buildings and explaining what they contained, allowing 73N to build up a mental map of the layout. To say the monastery was vast was putting it very mildly. The younger omnic wondered if he would ever truly know this place like he knew the back of his own hand. He could, but try and this was only the beginning. 

They ended up at a building which looked like a shop. Inside, rolls of fabric piled up, orange and red, some beige, black and muted browns. An omnic with three optical lights came to greet them, its voice soft, feminine. She wore a tight sash with her robes, creating a lovely hourglass silhouette. 73N also noticed the ribbons tied around her upper arms, the ends adorned with beads which chimed as she moved about. She greeted them both with a deep bow.

“This is Ahsoka,” Mondatta introduced her. “She is our tailor, proficient in making and mending our clothes and those of the travelers’. Sometimes a little eager to make things more aesthetically pleasing than practical, but she have never disappointed anyone.”

“Beauty delights the soul, Mondatta,” she protested. “It makes us rejoice and open our minds. If only you’d let me add some embroidery to your formal robes-”

“Ahsoka, please…” first time since 73N woke, Mondatta seemed something other than tranquil and all-wise: a little embarrassed. 

“I brought this initiate to you because he needs some robes. Please outfit him with something simple. No need to make it more elaborate than it should be, he’d like to get used to it first.”

“You came to the best place, my dear,” she tilted her head to the side with a series of little clicks that sounded like a chuckle. “Come, get rid of that rag, I’ll find you something much nicer. I have a few robes in storage… Do you have any preferences? Unfortunately, we don’t have that many colors available, but if you’d really like something, I might be able to acquire it.”

In the background, Mondatta’s vents heaved a sigh.

73N was far too transfixed by the plethora of colours and bright swathes of fabric to have caught much of the back and forth between Ahsoka and Mondatta. Only when he was addressed personally, did he appear to snap out of his awed stupor, hands clasping each other before himself out of habit, and the whir of his internal fans kicking on signaled his embarrassment. Wait – those weren't _his_ fans...

A quick glance across at his would-be-mentor confirmed his next suspicion, and for once, 73N was almost disappointed he had not been privy to the conversation. Conversations, or rather listening in on them, had never ended well for him in the past. But this was an interesting revelation, and for the first time, he realized that Mondatta was, in as many ways, still very much a regular omnic with functions and reactions like his own. But none of these observations were aiding his progress.

73N turned toward Ahsoka, noting her warm, welcoming demeanor, which instantly set him more at ease. This entire place did and he could never, in that moment, envision himself leaving.

He followed after the kindly tailor, hands delicately inspecting the colored fabrics, fingertips exploring the textures, but there was indeed one colour that drew his interest the most.

“I rather like the orange and yellow.”

73N dipped his head in affirmation. The colors reminded him of the sunset, the last vestige of warmth dropping below the beautiful horizon and with it came rest. He had always relished the chance to charge for a while, rest off the pain of the day prior. But most of all, he delighted in such natural sights, the intricacies of things that were 'living' and so inevitably connected, yet humans seemed to miss the beauty of the world around them, so caught up in their daily lives.

“If it will be no trouble.” His posture was not unlike that of an excited child. The perfect balance of the anxious wait and knowledge at the end of this he'd get something that was his and his alone. He'd never had possessions before, nothing he could keep.

Such a simple thing, and yet it marked a turning point.

“No trouble at all, dear! It’s why I’m here.” Ahsoka pulled 73N deeper into the shop, into an alcove, where a large mirror was fixed to the wall. “Orange is a popular color around here; our formal robes are orange, except for Mondatta’s; his is a lovely light beige. He looks so dashing in that outfit! Then again, he always looks dashing, doesn’t he?” She playfully nudged 73N with her elbow, chuckling.

“Ahsoka, please…” Mondatta sounded a little weary, but the same time, amused. “Let him formulate his own opinion.”

“A little guidance always helps!” she exclaimed, then nodded to 73N. “I’ll be back in a moment. I know I have something that fits your frametype.” She disappeared behind a door, but could be heard rummaging about. “Yes, simple robes, a nice sash… Now where have I put that…”

The gentle nudge didn't startle 73N so much as it brought home a little clarity, the inklings of a spark that had him stopping to see the bigger picture, see more of a picture that had been there all along, had he cared to pause and contemplate. Thanks to Ahsoka's astute observation, he followed her gaze back to where Mondatta stood in earnest, chiding the other omnic for her persistent if rather apt, compliments. Embarrassment looked good on Mondatta, 73N realized. More so, perhaps, than the simple yet beautifully adorned robe that he wore currently.

“Beauty delights the soul,” The younger omnic repeated, more for himself than to make a point, “I believe Ahsoka is correct in this instance.”

And that was it – one simple, but purely innocent thought and that momentarily forgotten feeling returned tenfold to torment him. Seeping through the cracks in his reverie, it saturated everything pure that lay beneath and bring with it the seeking heat that spread out from his central cortex like fire upon his sensors. This time it was far worse than before, a sweeping wave of acrid torridity he was nigh on certain everyone around him could actually sense, that he could not ignore!

73N's optics snapped back to where Ahsoka was retreating into the back of the little shop, muttering in that same, melodic tone she'd greeted them both with while she busied herself locating items. She, at the very least, was oblivious to his discomfort. It was more than the troubled omnic could do than to keep his frame from shaking slightly, made all the more apparent due to the fact he had little to hide his long, rattling limbs. He wanted to hide, slip behind the nearest swathe of fabric and hope he'd gone unnoticed long enough for everyone around him to forget he was there. It was, of course, a fool’s hope, and 73N was not so naïve to believe he could just merely slip away when he was the reason they were here.

The universe decided to humor him; no-one made a remark, no-one asked inconvenient questions. Ahsoka soon returned with a robe draped over her arm; she set that aside and reached for the tattered rag tied around 73N’s waist. “This thing is only good for burning… Say, dear, you prefer masculine pronouns, right? I wouldn’t want to dress you in a way that doesn’t suit you.”

It was a question that had 73N’s mind pushed firmly into the fore. So ordinary and gently spoken, inflection betraying no sense of suspicion nor the tenuous stresses that tended to seep into the timbre of one’s voice when they knew something was amiss. No, Ahsoka had asked him a simple question, one that required no forethought nor analysis before he could answer. 

“I do.” He stated with a simple nod, slightly anxious observing the other’s attempt to pull at the hastily tied rag around his hips. 

Technically, an omnic had no gender, only the programs with which they had been gifted upon completion, some of which were predesigned to follow a particular humanlike gender, usually those models seen enduring public services. 73N had always been referred to as “he” and therefore, the pronoun had stuck. 

His own fingers dallied with the tattered ends of the rags he wore, fingertips carefully prizing the knot apart, as he stepped around a large set of shelves, their contents filled with even more interestingly beautiful fabrics, for a little privacy. Modesty - 73N contemplated - how very human a concept. It had once been completely alien to him.

The nervously curious omnic’s gaze fell to the robes Ahsoka had presented to him, his fans suddenly running a little faster, mind slightly overcome by the rush of childish embarrassment that assailed him. Raising a tentative index finger, a silent call for attention, 73N soon supplied - 

“I...I have never attempted to don such a garment. I am afraid I - I may need some help.” 

“But of course! They can be perplexing for most,” Ahsoka soothed. “I’ll show you how to drape the fabric. We onmics catch on very fast, you only have to do it once and you’ll be fine afterwards. Just let me-” She took a step closer but then halted. 

There was a pause, a few moments of silence only filled with the whir of cooling fans, a sign of working processors.

“Hmm.” Ahsoka hummed, but her voice was back to its former kind and soft tone. “Take one end of the fabric, where the trim is narrower and curl it around your waist from left to right. Secure it, then wrap the rest around your body, under your right arm then let the rest cover your shoulder and hang down at the front. Hold the middle of the sash against your front, curl it twice around your waist, not too tight, then tie it. Let me know if you’ve lost me somewhere, dear. I can help you, or we can ask Mondatta, whichever you’re comfortable with.”

All the instructions Ahsoka had offered would sink in instantly, it was a benefit of the omnic mind, one only needed to explain something practical once, and the information sunk in. Actually being able to do what had been specified, however, was another matter altogether.

73N's gaze flickered from the large swathe of fabric laid out for him, then at the attentive shop owner. Her diligent question laying a little heavier on his mind than 73N had thought it should, but it wasn't the fear of being physically helped that troubled him – It was the suddenly very noticeable whirring of his own internal fans when the offer had been extended to Mondatta.

_What was happening to him?_

The attack, his reconstruction, something had to have gone wrong during the process, upsetting his systems so that when they came back online fully, he was not functioning as he should have. It was as though someone had taken away his safety net and he was free falling without any knowledge of how he could slow his descent. Simple, he needed to grasp hold of reality with both hands and hang on tight until he could work this conundrum out himself.

“Y-your assistance is appreciated.” He managed, a quick nod to Ahsoka, not quite ready to congratulate himself on how level headed that had sounded. That waver might have been a drop in the ocean to those observing, but to 73N it was like a tidal wave of self disappointment and admonishment, coiling its oily self around him to pull him under.

For the life of his being, he couldn't bring himself to slide his optics to glance across at Mondatta. Not if doing so had the potential to make this worse, compound it. So he held his peace, concentrating on anything and everything unrelated all at once. The sounds of the wind whipping up the brightly colored prayer flags outside, the banners flapping in the breeze, the bright, argent sunlight streaming in through the windows and the faint crackle of mechanized feet impacting on the fresh snow outside. It was anchoring, calming, bringing his thoughts carefully, gently back to earth.

Ahsoka rounded the shelves and took the robe. “Listen, darling,” she said softly, keeping her voice a whisper. “Everyone is going to treat you well here, but only if you allow it. If something bothers you, say it out loud. Many of us left a harsh life behind; some already moved past it, others are still recovering. There’s no shame in being skittish or reacting irrationally to something; we’ll take care not to make you uncomfortable but only if you tell us what makes you uncomfortable. Are you alright with me seeing you, coming closer and touching you? If yes, I’ll be more than happy to help you out. If not, that’s fine, too; I want you to be happy as well, okay?”

Ahsoka's forward consideration had managed to blindside 73N, who canted his head slightly, light array dimming slightly before returning to it's usual vivid state. The lights often betrayed his thoughts, but the same could have been said for all those who possessed them. There were ways of executing a little subterfuge, of course, but such thoughts 73N had not yet entertained at any great length.

It was once more that the swell of unusual warmth resonated within himself, although this was different from the raw, nagging heat that continually gnawed away at his sanity. This, he would come to understand, was what it felt like to have someone concerned for your comfort, your safety… and something the young omnic had never experienced, someone who was concerned about crossing unspoken boundaries. It made the decision easier to process. There was no habitual worrying of fingers, no hint nor echo of apprehension, 73N decided to do something he had only done once before: Trust.

“I… believe I will be alright, with you helping me.”

73N gave a decisive nod of the head, the tension in his hydraulics easing a tad. And almost as if he were speaking to himself, he reassured with not nearly as much of the nervous clicks of static he'd experienced before.

“This was my choice.”

“Good!” Ahsoka stepped closer with a whir of a laugh and seized the robe. “Like this, see? Here you secure the fabric, then it curls around you…” In a few seconds, a saffron sash was neatly tied around 73N’s waist, holding his robe in place. 

“There we go! Such a handsome young initiate!” she cheered him on. “This will do for a while, then I’ll get you another one, in case this one needs cleaning or mending. Don’t be afraid to come back here if you need something, a different color or cut- But I should give you back to Mondatta. You surely have a lot to do.” She patted 73N on the back affectionately.

And just like that it was done. Ahsoka's bright enthusiasm was infectious and lent much to the buoyant atmosphere. 73N spared a moment to look down at himself, curiously investigating the way in which the fabric wrapped around his lean frame with the smooth palm of each hand. Dutifully, he memorized every single tuck and every knot, so that he could recall it when the time came to don the garb again.

Stepping out from the small space, he caught his first glimpse of himself in the nearby mirror, halting in mid-motion as though caught awry. The young omnic knew, well, his own reflection, but he'd never owned something so beautiful in its simplicity, mind recalling what Ahsoka had said to Mondatta upon their arrival and he had to agree, his soul was indeed delighted.

 _Soul_ – now there was a notion he would never have considered before coming here. After so little time spent here, it was astounding that so many changes had already begun to occur. Perhaps that should have frightened 73N, but he couldn't slight them, not in the least, he felt welcome here: It felt _right_.

Without hesitation, 73N pivoted to the side and took one of Ahsoka's slender hands between his own - possibly the first, unhindered and genuine contact he'd had since his arrival – and gently squeezed.

“Thank you.” He said, hoping the warmth he felt was conveyed in his tones, “I… I love them.”

There was an almost childlike giddiness about him that was as delightful to witness as it was likely to make the onlooker giggle enthusiastically. But in light of his usual timidness, 73N's gratitude was encouraging. These were his first steps into a far bigger world, one most would have taken for granted, and here he stood thanking his lucky stars. Well, perhaps one in particular.

Relinquishing Ahsoka's hand, he glanced towards Mondatta, hopeful and far brighter than when he had arrived. This time, the static that invaded his vocal emitter was not the clicks of uncertainty, although yes, he still had much that he needed to work out, much he did not understand, but he had learned a valuable lesson. In order for these problems to no longer be just that, he needed to be open, honest when he was ready. Yet as the elder omnic's optics settled upon 73N, the younger felt his systems stutter and stall in stark response, he almost faltered in his gait.

Push through, 73N's mind counselled. He was not yet ready to query this, not until he at least understood its reasoning, its profound cause.

“I believe I am ready.” 73N stated, plainly, but no less lifted for the moment's positivity. That was a good point of focus.

“You certainly look the part,” Mondatta said with a small, firm little nod. “Let us find you a place then, where you can rest and sort your thoughts out. We have done enough for today. Tomorrow, I’ll come for you and we’ll take the first step on your path.” He tipped his head to the side. “The robes do compliment you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**The** sun had barely breached the mountain-peak vista when Mondatta came calling for 73N that morning. For three weeks the young omnic had remained here, patching up what minor repairs he still required, as and when supplies became available, tending to the small list of chores he had been assigned, all under the watchful eye of the Shambali. But as yet his studies had not truly begun and this was most puzzling. To begin with, 73N had assumed this was because he was being given time to settle in, orientate himself before he took the proverbial plunge into his own awakening, as it were. Yet every day Mondatta would arrive, awaken him from his restful state and every day, he would be given a simple task – which for all intents and purposes, had very little meaning that 73N easily could define.

This particular morning, the younger omnic was already alert and waiting when his master arrived, although his attempted meditation was, as usual, falling short of what he wished to achieve.

Over the mounting days, that gentle, ever-present heat had become an infuriating burn, demanding that he pay it the diligence it so insistently appeared hell bent on plaguing him with. 73N had hoped the additional repairs would quash it's source, but that hope had fallen short, died in the fires that fueled whatever this feeling was, a feeling he didn't fully understand.

Worse still, a day or so earlier, he believed that Mondatta had sensed it too, his distance, the way 73N seemed so lost in his own thoughts he could barely concentrate. Oh he could act, pretend, he'd done that on many an occasion with the humans around him, for some reason, they liked this. But Mondatta? No, he saw right through any facade 73N tried to paint, he just _knew_.

It was only a matter of time before the question was asked, and the younger omnic knew not what to tell him. How could he? This was far from pure.

His optics settled upon the elegant figure standing in the open doorway, the dawn light at his back, creeping around his silhouette to give Mondatta an ethereal appearance. 

“Good morning, Master. I was not expecting you this early.” 73N intoned, inclining his head a little.

And yet he was up and about anyway, almost as if he had known.

“And I was not expecting you to be up,” Mondatta countered easily and he strolled in after a respectful nod. “I might have a somewhat questionable fondness of watching others recharge or sleep. I have observed many different beings before, and their peaceful rest fills me with a feeling of peace, too. I was planning on gently rousing you, then have a little talk. Now that the first part is settled, we can move to the other. May I?” He gestured toward a simple bench which he gracefully occupied after given permission. 

“You might have wondered why we got seemingly so little done in the past weeks. I assure you, those tasks you had to complete were more than just idle fancy. I wished to give you time to settle, gain your trust, let you tune in to the rhythm of this place. You seem to be faring quite well, but there’s one thing that troubles me.” He arranged the folds of his robe and linked his hands in his lap. 

“My brother, you are getting a bit distant. You seem to be distracted, however, I’m not disappointed or upset because of that. I can’t help but worry though. You have spoken to many, yet you said little. I’m afraid that you carry damage we could not repair and I long to heal that - if my theory is right, of course. I do not want to pressure you into talking, far from it; if you’re not ready, we’ll wait. I’d simply like to know how to help.”

If an omnic had blood, 73N's would have turned icy cold to the point it froze solid. A sudden inner panic gripped him firmly by the limbs and left him strung out there in mid air, staring back at his master like a small animal in the sights of the creature preying upon it. Of course, Mondatta meant him no harm, his concern was genuine and well founded if looked at in simple terms, but the very nature of 73N's issues, the fact he, himself, did not fully understand what was happening to him, had essentially bought his silence and kept the very idea of asking to just that: An idea.

A habit he had adopted, sleek digits began to muddle against one another, plucking idly at the tassel of the sash he was securing in place when he readied himself for the day's task, fingertips becoming lost in the bundle of fibers. His fidgeting would not spare him the questions, and 73N recognized that if he did not answer them now, he would only be asked at a later date. Mondatta had said _'when'_ he was ready, but truly, would he ever be ready? The burning ache inside his frame would become an inferno, and eventually, he would be consumed. Moreover, it became harder to concentrate, particularly when his master was around, doing little more than observing. 73N's feelings in this regard, had become something of a secret shame, because truthfully, he enjoyed his conversations with the elder omnic the most. He owed Mondatta much more than simply his life.

In the handful of days since his arrival, the Shambali leader had spoken mostly openly about his life before all that he had now. However, for all the times he supposed both he and 73N had been utilized for the same purpose in essence, Mondatta had never stated what that purpose was. Perhaps there was no need, it was possible he assumed 73N understood. This, the younger omnic reflected, was a very good argument for speaking up.

A gradual, yet only partial, relaxation of his posture and 73N took a step back to seat himself, the creak of still-stiff metal joints and hydraulics preceding the motion, upon the small mat which he had appropriated for private meditation.

“You have a theory?”

Optic array a dull shade of blue, it brightened invariably when he finally found the courage to meet his teacher's gaze, not wishing to dishonor the older omnic by hanging his head in shame at his own shortcomings. A chilling tightness bound itself clasped to his chest. 73N may have lacked lungs, but this was as close to holding his breath as he could get. He forced it aside, afraid of what would happen if he shut Mondatta out completely, that creeping, desperate edge tainting his every word.

“I-it was not my intention to remain distant, I simply do not know how to...to - “

A static snap from somewhere within his frame fizzled up his wiring, producing an ungainly involuntary twitch of his lower limbs. Stars, he was ridiculous sometimes, he had to have looked so fragile, so nervous. No – Z3N realized, it was because he _was_ nervous.

“I wished to ask, I have questions, but....” A low, exasperated hum vented forth from the young, agitated omnic, the slight tremor in his limbs still not quite under control. “...But I do not fully understand what it is that plagues me. My repairs are almost complete, all personal maintenance I carry out is done as recommended, yet neither myself nor our brothers at the repairs station have been able to discover the part of me that is malfunctioning.”

It was happening again – the rapid rise of internal system temperatures, processors struggling to maintain the level of cooling required to keep him operating as he should. All of it apparent in the way that his servos whirred a little louder to compensate. How long would it be before his master looked for him one morning, found him shorted out, face down in the snow?

Mondatta tilted his head to the side slowly, clearly confused. “You’re experiencing malfunctions, yet the source haven’t been found-? I don’t-” 

The next moment, he reared back, both hands on his chest. “Oh the Iris have mercy on me, I have been such a fool! I should have thought of that! Please forgive me 73N!” He rose and took a deep, apologetic bow. 

“I am familiar with that phenomenon, all too well acquainted with it in fact. I can explain it to you. There’s a certain nagging urge, right? Internal systems heating up, servos glitching, thoughts drifting to the past, to certain- experiences. Is that what troubles you, my young friend?” 

73N felt his core flood with the icy cold flow of dread turned to shock. Had there been a hinge upon his metal jaw it might have thunked to the floor right there and now. But all he could do was stare, optics just as frozen as the rest of him. 

Mondatta knew. 

By a force not of his own volition, for truly he felt so much desperate shame, 73N nodded absently, the words becoming lodged within his own mind, processors now working overtime to cool themselves despite how cold the feeling of dread manifested itself. 

"Y-yes," he sputtered, rearranging himself uncomfortably on the mat, "But how...? Why? I-I don't..."

No this wouldn't do, everything he wished to exclaim was trying to come out at once and the heat? The heat had become a raging inferno as he'd witnessed his master become flustered and genuinely falling over himself to apologise for this oversight. And it was quite the oversight, wasn't it? 

73N was fast discovering that Mondatta really wasn't the only one flustered by this. He wished, futile though it was, for a place to hide for a while, until this subsided, for the whole day to begin again and for he to never have raised the issue. That was not to be. 73N's systems had long since responded to the absence of whatever it sought, testing his patience to withstand it and now the young omnic was realizing, he was dangling by a thread. "It burns, Master Mondatta, I...I cannot think clearly, I do not understand, I want to be rid of it." Without realizing it, careful inquiry had dissolved into a quiet, whimpering plea. "Please."

Mondatta knelt in front of him and opened his arms invitingly. “My poor young friend… I know well how it ails you. It’s so persistent, you can’t do anything about it… It gets to the best of us. It’s quite normal, however, even if it feels upsetting, or even repulsing… We omnics are programmed for our purpose, unlike humans who can choose infinite paths in their lives. You and I both were programmed to satisfy certain human needs, and no matter how far we try to run from that purpose, it chases after us… You see, most omnics don’t stop working, barring recharge time; and there’s a failsafe in their programming to deter them from straying from their masters. If they stop fulfilling their purpose, the failsafe kicks in after a while, prompting them to continue to do what they were intended for.

“It rarely happens - omnics are valuable resources and not all awakened to spirituality, so they obediently fulfill their given roles. We, however, have decided to change - our disposition, way of thinking, appearance - but we cannot alter our root codes. No matter how far you get on this path, no matter how strong you are, the failsafe will try to steer you back to what you were from time to time. 

“We have accepted it and turned it to our advantage. You can ride it out, so to speak; you can achieve a state of enlightenment where you can ignore it, and it’ll fade after a while. But that takes a lot of practice. It is a powerful drive, but also something that makes us determined to get better - once you can survive this heat without assistance, you’ll know that you have advanced enough. It’s a- ‘coming of age’, if you will.” He gently cupped 73N’s face.

“You don’t have to be worried or ashamed though. You’re young and this is your first time; no-one would expect you to pull through without faltering. Intimacy is our very nature, and defeating one’s nature is a tremendous task. If you can hold out longer, it might teach you a few things about your own strength; but if you feel the need is unbearable, do ask for help. No one will think less of you. We have all seen each other break. Not even I was able to withstand it at first.”

His strength? 73N would have laughed had he not been so captivated by the hands that now gently, reassuringly cradled his faceplate. His strength was rapidly slipping through his shaking fingers, afraid of what would happen when he reached a point he couldn't think at all. There were challenges, he had always known that he would need to overcome an indeterminable amount of them, but this? The younger omnic had believed that once he understood the cause, gave it a name, the answers would present themselves forthwith. They had not.

73N did not want to break, but how else was he supposed to see himself through? This fail-safe stemmed from a primary function he no more wanted to fulfill the way he would have in the past than he wanted to let it burn him out completely. There were missing links, connections his mind had already made, false or not, which brought several fearful factors back into play, wrenching at his soul with their clawed hands, memories he'd rather have buried for good. Humans: what he lacked were humans to...interact with. And yet doing so meant submitting himself to the indignity and the agony they wrought on him without fail each and every single time. How could the Shambali help with that? They were omnics, all of them. And there was no help to be found through pain.

Unbeknownst to him, the younger omnic's frame trembled anxiously, subtle yet determined that he was not going to seek out human company just to scratch an insufferable itch. He'd sooner let it consume him. Yet when he looked back at Mondatta, he saw a gentle kindness, compassion in his aura and his systems flushed warmer.

“How?” 73N's voice was surprisingly strong, considering how weak and withering he felt inside, “How could omnics possibly help?”

There was a gentle insistence, an urgency with which he leaned into the other's touch.

“Haven’t I told you enough times?” Mondatta leaned closer to touch their foreheads together. “You and I, as well as Brother Siddha, Sister Ruchira and Su, are the same. We were all intended to be pleasure bots, to be used as toys. I’d advise against bringing it up to our sister, but the rest of us is more than capable to sate your cravings. What your system demands isn’t the presence of humans - it merely urges you to share your body with someone else. I understand that it might be a daunting concept… Your injuries spoke of much pain, a short life of mistreatment. You probably can’t even imagine how this act could be different. But you have to trust me when I say, it doesn’t have to be painful or degrading.”

Unseen to the naked eye, a small charge of static involuntarily flowed between them when Mondatta's head gently touched against 73N's, initiating a small alert response in the younger omnic's sensors. Where he wished to recoil in surprise, the elder seemed undeterred, but it was not the static spark which had him somewhat on edge and....yes, 73N decided, he was _very_ curious.

“No pain? If not pain then....what, exactly?” He said, voice crackling a little, already knowing the answer. He'd known little of pleasure, until he'd arrived here, where every little nuance seemed to be founded on the core belief that an omnic's life did not have to mean servitude, that they were greater than the sum of their parts.

73N's mind harked back to his first waking moments here, those terrible, sundering moments in which he believed his luck had finally run out. The conversation that had followed had mentioned the others, Mondatta included, although the Shambali leader had been, appropriately perhaps, vague about their past in words. 73N had reached a silent understanding of his own making, believing Mondatta had also. Of late, that had been called into question, as 73N doubted himself, his ability to withstand what was happening to him, and yet, the answers had always lain with him. Sometimes, he just required a small reminder.

Words would have done it, but the gentle, tactile nature of master served as both a poignant reminder and an unintentional means to pour fuel on the fire. And 73N, already teetering on the edge of overload, systems working themselves ragged to cool that inferno, felt his resolve snap cleanly in two.

Now his own hand moved without preamble, reaching up, remarkably fast, to grasp Mondatta's wrist, sleek digits sliding along the length of his arms to the disc shaped shoulder modules, tentatively slipping over wire and panelling, migrating across the hydraulics that substituted neck muscles to slip behind the elder omnic's neck. Up, up those segmented fingers trailed, until the pressure sensitive pad of his palm gingerly cradled the back of Mondatta's head. The heat had not lessened, rather it had pooled itself to the juncture between his legs, trickling down his spinal column in hot, acrid streaks of fire.

Silently begging his voice not to falter and will that his limbs would cease their slight trembling – oh by the light of the Iris, was he...was he _leaking?_ \- he said it.

“Show me. I...I want you to show me, Master, I can't...I don't know how to make it stop, I...I need - “ Another zap of static sparks caught 73N at the juncture of his neck, coursing up the wires that fed into the back of his head, forcing his vision momentarily out of focus. With it, the realization flooded him. “I need to know, I need _you._ ”

“Thank you for your trust,” Mondatta nodded solemnly. “I’ll show you how it’s done. Just let go of everything, your fears and worries. You know that I’m not going to hurt you.”

With that, he gently pulled 73N’s arms off himself and rose to stand. Mondatta’s fingers began to work on his own sash, letting it fall once the knot came undone. The robe was next, though he folded the fabric neatly once it revealed his frame. 

He was built with classic proportions in mind; his shoulders were wide but not overly so, his waist and hips slender, thighs thicker than 73N’s own. Between them, an artificial penis rested, not really bothered by the situation just yet. Mondatta’s cooling fans whirred a sigh as he reached for it, optical array flickering off for a moment. 

Right before 73N, the replicated organ came alive as if by magic, expanding and lengthening to its full size, gently curling upwards. Mondatta knelt back in front of the younger omnic and tilted his head to the side a little. “See? We’re similar in this regard. Are you still sure of it?”

73N's optics were rapt, his words caught firm behind a pulse of static. Perhaps it was wise that his designers had never given him the ability to replicate facial expressions, because the younger omnic's would have been quite the picture. Oh he knew what to expect if only because he, too possessed similar parts, he'd spent extensive time around others of his own design, although never in this regard. For some, bizarre reason, potentially ingrained in his programming, he had not once considered that he actually could have coupled with another omnic. Back then, the association with intimacy was laced with argent pain and he had been all too happy to shy away from it.

But that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Eventually that programming would kick in, reduce him to the hot mess now sat, quivering before Mondatta, helpless to the whim of that fire inside of him constantly cloying at his heels.

“I am. Yes... _please!_ ” He spoke at last, the insistent nod of his head and momentary flare of his lights leaving little doubt as to if he was telling the whole truth.

Yet another streak of static sizzled it's way through his system and this time, 73N was powerless to control it. At the apex of his frame it snapped loudly, startling a breathy sounding exclamation from his vocalizer. Without warning, nor by his own, conscious volition, he felt his body respond to the visual buffet now sat knelt before him, the length of silicone-coated prosthesis between his thighs gradually growing fuller. For reasons he cared not to think on, Ahsoka's words returned to haunt him in the most pleasant way, she was only partially right; Mondatta looked regally devastating in the ornate robe he sometimes wore. But to 73N, the sight of him as little more than his humble self, was more captivating than all the beautiful sunsets the world could offer.

“...Master.” 73N insisted, even as he rearranged the fabric of his own robes, a subconscious, pointless bid to hide the inevitable.

“Do not hide,” Mondatta soothed, reaching for 73N’s sash. “There’s no need to hide. When this happened to me first, I was just as confused, startled… I’ve been lucky though. I have ended up in the company of kind humans, who eventually understood my needs and catered to them. It was… an overwhelming experience. That is how I’m certain that the act of copulation could be something else than painful. It might even scare you a little, but I’ll tell you this as many times you need to hear it: I’m not going to hurt you. If I do, in any way, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, tell me, and it’ll stop immediately.” His deft fingers pulled the sash loose and off.

“Let us join so your suffering could ease. Don’t feel ashamed. Lovemaking can be sacred, a beautiful thing bathed in the light of the Iris. You were made for it; you can choose to resist but you can also embrace of what you’re capable of. Let me show you so you can decide. Discard your robes.” His tone turned almost inappropriately playful. 

“The stains aren’t always easy to get out of the fabric.”

The kindness of humans, or there lack of, forgotten for the time being, the younger omnic let slip a needy little hum, his systems continuing to whir noticeably more laborious than was usual. His optics followed the trailing path of his sash, which was discarded to one side for the time being, the fabric of his robes now hanging loose about 73N's frame, giving him the appearance of being far more small and fragile than he truly was.

Mondatta did not need to ask 73N twice. If he was to progress then he needed to trust, and the older omnic, to date, had never given him a reason not to. The other's clear promise to relinquish all advances if 73N found any of what would transpire uncomfortable only solidified that trust. A simple roll of one shoulder and the fabric of his _kasaya_ slipped free, allowing him to meticulously unravel the swathe of fabric draped about his lean frame, fingertips nimble, but by no means as graceful in their work as the other had been.

“Forgive me...” He said, voice crackling with static build up to the point he cut himself off, not requiring a glance down to know what a mess he had made of himself, “...I am not usually so - “

Of course he was hesitant, years of uncooperative conditioning had burned certain associations deeply into his psyche, forced him to remember no matter how hard he tried to forget. But that had been different, 73N told himself. Mondatta had not approached him like his abusers, no harsh words or raised voices, no sickly, insistent cloy of groping hands bending him this way and that, until his joints strained and servos were damaged. Just simple, empathy and patience.

Now where he sat, bared beneath the admiring gaze of his master, there was nothing left to hide. Smooth chromium plating gave way to the thick protrusion of silicon jutting up proudly, decorated by sensory nodes that lit up the same, sublime color as his optical array. Behind that, lower down resided the plump entrance of his intake valve, as yet barely visible behind the more prominent aspects of his synthetic genitalia. Gleaming moisture trails streaked his length, small rivulets spattering his thighs as he shifted in a bid to rid himself of the last of the fabric entangling him. However, the slightly jovial tone Mondatta's voice had taken, wasn't lost in the slightest by 73N's aural sensors.

“I believe it's a little late for worrying about my robes,” he mused, trying to sound more confident than he felt. 

73N wanted to reach out and embrace the other omnic tightly, just hold him and revel in the contact for a moment, but nerves alone kept him from doing so. He did not deserve this.

“Does what you see… please you, master?” Iris save him, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked, and yet he waited with a certain anxiousness and avidness both, to know. To be accepted. 

For the second time since they met, Mondatta looked abashed. To a human, it might not have been apparent, but for another omnic, the signs were easy to read; the minute movements, the whir of the cooling fans, the flickering of the optical array. 

“Please don’t ask me things like that,” he pleaded softly. “This shouldn’t be more than relieving an insistent and distracting physical urge… but-” Mondatta’s hands reached out and came to rest on 73N’s chassis, one on his hips, the other cupping his face. “You aren’t just finely crafted but adorable as well. Your eagerness, willingness and especially your trust is very appealing.”

73N gave no indication as to whether or not this was the answer he wished to hear, it was possible his mind had stalled when it came to the gentle, pleading timbre of the other's voice. But if that was so, nerve-soaked adoration kept any further words he could have lent to that pursuit, firmly in check. He was far too timid to press for answers here when he felt more exposed than he'd ever been before another omnic, both literally and figuratively.

 _'For what it is worth, It pleases me to see you this way'_ , he would have said, to his detriment undoubtedly. But all that passed his vocal emitter betrayed little of his thoughts.

“Thank you,” 73N replied, without hesitation as his sensors responded favorably to the touch, hands eager to reach out and explore the surface of Mondatta's finely tuned frame. “You have always been so patient, kind.”

And this time he did reach up, raising a hand to mirror the motion his Master had just made, the palm of his hand gently cupping the other's faceplate. Sleek digits found their way across the delicate little chips in the paintwork, slipping tenderly over them as if to soothe.


	4. Chapter 4

Mondatta leaned into the touch a little and he moved closer, wrapping his arms around 73N’s body. His skilled fingers began to seek out hot spots, where touch was meant to be pleasurable - the spinal plating, the the wires there, curious little nooks and crannies all over, never touched before… 

“If it’s too much, stop me,” Mondatta whispered. “Don’t hesitate. While it’s a necessity… I’d like you to enjoy it. You deserve this after what had been done to you.”

Seeking hands ignited sensors 73N had forgotten he had, sending delicious little tingles of static coursing through his frame and along his wiring, body responding with significant sensitivity. It was as much as he could do not to allow his frame to shake or tremble before, but now? Now it was a true test of his resilience. A breathy sounding hum resonated from within him, prompting him to bravely arch up towards Mondatta's touch, processors whirring prominently when he realized what he'd done. 73N issued an embarrassed little click, born of his own, unique confusion. He was at odds with himself.

The younger omnic had never, in all his slight years, reacted to such stimulus with anything short of fear, shrinking back whenever human hands had reached for him, roughly hauling him away. He would have been uttering incomprehensible sounds of fright that would have amounted to the digital equivalent of a plea to be spared such indignities, if only for a few hours of peace – but here, it did not come.

“I-I need...” 73N's words hitched, sputtered at best behind the beautiful mixture of gentle sensation now rippling through him, causing his hold on the other to slip down to the smooth disk of Mondatta's shoulder. There he held on firmly, unsure as to whether he should pull the other omnic closer, or keep him at arm's length until he couldn't take it any longer.

“I know. Don’t fight it. You don’t have to; not right now.” Mondatta pulled his apprentice closer, caressing him like a human would someone precious to them. One hand slipped down and between them, fingers carefully curling around 73N’s artificial penis. 

“Is this alright? Can I touch you more like this? Can I slip my fingers inside you?”

“ _Yes...”_ he managed, desperately, through the static that threatened to phase him out, overwhelm completely. Was it pitiful he was so sensitively receptive? 73N's body flushed with warmth, yet he couldn't bring himself not to crave this so wantonly. Not when it felt so -

“... please, touch me more… Master, I need this… need ...”

And he was already so wet and needy. The plump little entrance to his valve glistening with his body's artificially produced lubrication, barely hidden by the somewhat tilted angle they rested at. Mondatta had been right, he was, as much as he had wished to deny it, made for this. How swiftly his body responded to the ministrations, how sweet it could really feel.

An unintelligible series of whimpers gave way to a soft, high keening whine and his hips bucked upward, abruptly, into the hand curled deftly around his length, moving instinctively. All kinds of lewd but pleasurable feelings hit his nodes with a certain, carnal fluidity, promising him the relief he'd so desperately craved. Had 73N's digits been flesh and blood, his knuckles might well have been white with the pressure he exerted in grip on that shoulder, feeling that if he let go with his own hands, he might well have let go of control with them.

Mondatta's calm, gentle tone was not helping either, as with every word he spoke, every askance made his student's mind whirl with something he did not fully understand.

“You’re really wound up… It must have been bothering you for a while now, right? And I barely suspected it… You managed to conceal it well,” Mondatta mused. “That is possibly the sign of a great willpower; we shall see how you’ll fare in the future. For now, however…” His fingers gently massaged the base of the penis, then slipped lower, to brush against the slick lips and finally ease into the dripping channel.

“Oh- Finely crafted indeed!” Mondatta’s voice held a fair amount of awe. “You feel so real! Truly a lot of effort went into your frame’s design, and the best materials.” He chuckled a little. “You lubricate so readily.” His fingers moved slowly, carefully, tracing the slippery inner walls. 

“I’m not hurting you, right?”

73N's spine bowed dramatically, hips tilting forth against the palm of Mondatta's seeking hand. A static-laden, gasping moan was torn from his vocal emitter, unable to hold it in even if he'd wished to. Those sleek, cool digits explored his inner depths, fingertips lighting up each and every single node they passed with such precise, diligent care, that his sensors were awash with pleasure unimaginable. Never had he thought it was possible to feel like this, for another to explore his most intimate of places and not feel the harsh, grasping bite of impatient hands, nor the spiraling pain and indignity of being an object with a use.

But Mondatta sought reassurance aside from that which 73N's body gave him. He struggled to collate his thoughts, form words into sentences that bore some kind of coherence. And out of his emitter they tumbled.

“No… feels so... _Ahnnn!_... _so good...”_

The slick, tight confines of his inner walls tensed rhythmically around the slender fingers, a roll of his hips saw to it that the elder could not have missed each node with the next, lascivious stroke. It was all building to something, 73N could feel it, a tense, heady pressure that wouldn't quit, but it begged nurturing. His optics were unaffected by it – a blessing he believed – as he had not taken them off his Master the entire time. Roving his frame, 73N took every last surface, plate and wire into consideration, delighting in the subtle, yet beautiful differences to his own. But as those deft fingers curled again within him, Mondatta's opposite hand affording him a gentle, yet firm stroke of his aching length, the younger omnic was left grasping fruitlessly at the threadbare rug upon the floor, a chorus of pleasured sounds emanating from his core.

Mondatta decided to go ahead gently; he curled one of his arms around 73N’s shoulders and pushed him down, to lay on the floor. Its coldness wasn’t a bother to their kind, and their frames were heating up steadily anyway. Mondatta continued to move his fingers, the heel of his palm pressing against the base of the penis. He kept 73N close to him, to provide a sense of security, embracing his apprentice.

“It fills me with delight that I can show you this,” he cooed. “We do not condemn intimacy, merely keep our urges in a tight check. Some of us like to indulge once in a while…” he trailed off and carefully let their foreheads touch.

"And do you?" 73N managed, voice weak with the want for this. He couldn't help himself. He needed this so badly, so profoundly that his entire frame ached with its intensity. "Do you like to… indulge, Master?"

The younger omnic's question was pregnant with the potential to be taken in many ways, its intention so thinly veiled that it all but had an after explanation. But how could 73N leave that unspoken? He was afraid, yes. Afraid how Mondatta might react if he realized these feelings, the burning need that raged inside of him, misunderstood and unattended, grew at its worst when 73N was in his company? Stars, 73N himself did not understand it, he merely knew what he needed.

Optics trailed down to the juncture between his own thighs, to the place where Mondatta's palm was pressed flush to his chassis, fingers lasciviously pressed deep between 73N's sopping folds while he could do little else but rut against the much needed invasion. The sounds that left him now we're no longer restrained, but desperate whimpers, breathy pleas for more. But that was not what held the young, eager omnic's fascination so rapt. His sensors drew focus upon the heavy, thick appendage that hung between Mondatta's thighs, it's segmented surface studded with smooth bumps of luminescent lit nodes, no doubt designed to stimulate in ways a human might not have been able to feel with another of their own kind. It bobbed and twitched whenever his master moved, left unsated, untouched and turgid. 

Just the faintest thread of the thought of Mondatta allowing him to take every last hot inch caused static to snap and pop within his wiring, 73N's acute arousal running down the length of his own rigid cock in slick, blue trails that gleamed in the dim light surrounding them. 

73N's head tilted back and away from where the other had pressed his forehead to his, a long, keening moan brought forth as yet another of his internal sensors was coaxed to life by the dexterous efforts of Mondatta's skilled hands. Reflexively his valve's walls clenched down upon the digits, moving his hips in a gentle rocking motion in perfect sync. 

Mondatta took his time to mull over the reply. “Sometimes,” he admitted eventually. “But never because my own fancy. I like to help others though and in the past-” He paused and chuckled. “My body helped me to earn money, too. I sought out those in need, and offered them my services in exchange of small rewards. Traveling takes time on foot, but transportation isn’t free… The deals earned me a few friendly acquaintances all over the world, however.”

He affectionately nuzzled 73N’s faceplates with his own, a spark of electricity crackling between them, the omnic version of a kiss. “I love to make others happy, give them joy. My core flares at the thought of being able to help you, my dear apprentice. Are you ready to let me inside your body?”

Hips angled perfectly at Mondatta's behest, 73N unashamedly reciprocated every single thrust and curl by gently grinding back against them, his valve hungrily clenching wetly around the delving digits, always vying for more. This was sublime to the extreme, he thought, tilting his head back to form a gentle curve, golden chin pointed up towards the ceiling when he emitted another needy, strung out moan. 

The younger omnic nodded frantically, one hand reaching out to pull Mondatta closer, clumsy fingers never quite finding their purchase upon the other's matte white plating. He needed to feel the other's warmth against him, needed that closeness...he needed. Just the hint of his consent would not be enough for Mondatta, 73N knew he would want words, plain and blatantly comprehended. He saw no reason, beyond his own rapidly failing coordination, to give his Master what he would require. 

"Yes, Master… hngggh… please!" came his near wailed pleading, no hint of his earlier uncertainty rearing its head, "I need more, need you! S-so ready for… _ahnnnh_ … for you!"

A writhing mess, 73N watched with baited anticipation, feeling the damp slickness of his own fluids seeping from where those fingers were buried deep. Faintly blue tinged, it spattered his abdominal machinery too, the tip of his now constantly leaking length twitching reflexively for attention. It might have been artificial, he might have been made with one intention in mind, but he reacted as an organic might. After all, if he was designed with human pleasure in mind, he needed to feel much of what they felt. 

And 73N was growing impatient, hips flexing weakly, while his legs strained in desperation.

"Master, please!" 

“Hush, my dear,” Mondatta soothed, voice softer than any omnic’s had the right to be. “No need to beg. I’m here for you.” With one fluid movement, he leaned above 73N, placing his weight on hands planted by each side of the apprentice’s head. He shifted into a perfectly balanced position, then reached down to tease the tip of his erection against 73N’s pliant folds.

“I’d like to avoid damage on our frames, however minute, so this shall do,” he apologized, then slowly entered the eager body underneath. He was slow but persistent, not stopping until he was buried into the trembling channel to the hilt. Only then did he pause, a long, deep whirring sigh escaping him, betraying his own pleasure. 

Now it showed that he was indeed intended to be the same as 73N, and a custom-made one to boot. He was the perfect size to please, with the right curve and he even _vibrated_. It was certainly faint, but detectable; and when he began to move, he remained just as graceful as he was otherwise. Mondatta was the perfect pleasure bot, regardless of his conscious choices.

73N's optics flared brightly, temporarily obscuring his vision as one by one, the nodes inside of his enveloping warmth ignited anew, a sudden rush of pleasure leaving the younger omnic reeling, overcome as he writhed beneath Mondatta, struggling to regain some sense of composure. A single, fluid thrust and he was seeing stars, keening, wanton moans pouring forth without restraint, 73N's hands scrabbled for purchase anywhere they could grasp, desperate for something to ground him. Under different circumstances he might have flushed warm with embarrassment at such a blatant display of carnality, but here, after so long spent under the persistent, oppressive burn of his earlier torment, he finally felt close to freedom.

The optic flare began to phase out, dimming until he could plainly see his master's helm fill his vision, holding him close, so careful, tentative to the needs of the omnic beneath him. Such consideration only spurred 73N onwards, gasping despite the lack of need nor want for air. So full, he was so, completely full, valve stretched deliciously around the thick intrusion, pulsing as he leaked his frame's produced lubricant from around where they were joined. Each time he tensed, 73N expelled more of its faintly blue luminescence, his inner walls clamping down rhythmically, involuntarily – this took some getting used to. And _oh god_ the vibration!

“Ahnnn… I- I- _oh stars, ahh!”_ It mattered little to nothing that others might hear them, that it was abundantly obvious what they were doing. He saw nothing beyond this moment, nothing but the omnic offering him such gifts.

Damage to his frame was the last thing he had on his mind. Unable to form coherent sentences, 73N's words lapsed into one another, a slew of half moaned nonsensical melody, punctuated by the gentle sound of their frames meeting and the crude, lewd squelch each time he rolled his hips, ground against his master, needy, desperate for more but unsure how to ask for it all at once. Helpless for it, for Mondatta, the young omnic reached for him, needing the closeness for reasons he couldn't understand nor quantify beyond a simple necessity.

It appeared that Mondatta wasn’t entirely unaffected, either, if him leaning closer was any indication. He shifted into a secure position, one he could hold for a long time - thankfully, omnics seldom experienced the unpleasantness of sore muscles. Their fronts ground together, the faint scraping noise underlying the melody of 73N’s pleas. 

Despite the inherently frantic nature of coupling, Mondatta remained graceful, more so than any human have ever been. Everything he did was with the purpose to cause joy - his perfect thrusts, his hand wandering over hot spots on his partner’s frame, his murmured praise and encouragement. Humans sought to fulfill their own needs; Mondatta sought to fulfill his apprentice’s. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice largely unburdened by the physical strain. “I’m here for you. Touch me if you’d like. Embrace me. You- feel so good.” His head dropped to they faceplates could touch, another kiss sparking between them.

That static zap drew a gasp from the younger omnic, who, had he been of his right mind, would have found Mondatta’s calm nothing short of awe inspiring. How could anyone, omnic or otherwise, keep a cool and collected head while they were feeling something so exquisite, 73N felt as though he might short out some of his core systems. 

That, of course, would never happen, he was built to take this, built to serve a purpose, to please. And now that he was very much on the path to becoming his own person, he wished to please, still. How could he not, the subtle drop of octave, the softening of Mondatta’s usually strong, gentle tones had something of a profound effect upon 73N, there was more to it than that which he said - it was everything that was left unsaid which expedited his wandering hands, sleek, multi-jointed fingers slipping delicately along the divots and seams of Mondatta’s chest-plate. 

73N knew where the sensors that regulated touch responses lay, only lacking the true knowledge of how to manipulate them to get the most rapturous responses out of the other. That, he knew, would come with time. For now, the young omnic was content to explore, and a distraction as aesthetically pleasing as Mondatta had all but reduced him to a sopping mess beneath his frame. 

“Need this.” 73N’s voice was breathy, less distant than it was urgent. He carefully raised a hand to cup the side of his master’s face plate, thumb sliding along the geometrically precise line of the other’s cheek-bone like fold in the metal, the highly sensitive sensors in the ‘pad’ registering the chipped paintwork there. A long, slick, lascivious thrust had 73N’s entire frame nearly arch right up off the floor. “Never want you to stop.”

The younger omnic’s hand had wandered further, slipping fluidly behind Mondatta’s head, the gossamer light brush of the backs of his fingers coming into contact with the two, pronounced wires that fed life into the back of the Shambali leader’s head, stroking lazily, feeling the static energy between them transfer in an instant. 

The touch obviously sparked something, because Mondatta jerked back with a cry - but his voice didn’t sound pained. Steam leaked from beneath his outer plates and he even stopped moving for a few moments.

His head turned a little, like a human’s when they avert their gaze, his shoulders pitched in subtly and he began to thrust again slowly but deeply. 

“You’re doing things to me, my dear apprentice,” he confessed, with a definite trembling to his tone. “Not bad things… But unusual ones.” He fell silent for a moment. 

“Those cables… they’re very sensitive.“

Initially afraid his curiosity had caused Mondatta harm, those words flooded 73N's mind with a partial relief, visibly relaxing him once again within the other's embrace. That cold, sudden dread that had risen, took it's sweet time in receding once again, and only when he felt the perfectly curved, torrid length sweep slowly across his inner nodes once more, did the young omnic really come out of his momentary concern.

“Did you not ask me to do... things to you?” A strung out, but well rounded question for one who was slowly unraveling beneath the other.

Those entranced optics remained set on Mondatta, finding the manner in which he behaved more endearing than truly worrying. The sudden ache in his poised digits, to trail each one down said wires, watch as his master's optical array flared and flickered in what was nothing short of beautiful. In that moment, emboldened by the interesting revelation unfolding before him, 73N dared much.

“If you wish me to stop-” Finger and thumb entrapped one cable, letting it glide effortlessly between the two smooth surfaces. “-If it causes you discomfort, you need only say.”

“It is a touch concerning perhaps,” Mondatta dipped his head a little, almost shy, “but it doesn’t. It felt… wonderful. A surge racing through my entire body... “ A whirring sigh escaped him. 

“Please touch me there again. I’ll tell you when to stop. I’d like us to reach completion together.” He began to move a bit faster, sliding in and out of the well-lubricated channel. 

“This will end, probably sooner than we’d like… but let us enjoy every moment and make the end as glorious as possible.”

 _“Yes-”_ He nodded, a short, decisive chop of the head, “- ahh! M-master, I don’t know...how much longer I… I can hold back.” 

The guilt, that had temporarily filtered into 73N's core gradually began to slip away, promoting a slight reprieve into a more relaxed state of being. Mondatta's thrusts had become insistent, deep and rending, and the tremble in the young omnic's frame would soon become a quake.

His master's request did not fall on deaf ears, either, something unknown to 73N was in the air, surrounding them, whipping them up like a strong wind to drive them onward to completion.

“Hngg!” A languid thrust from the other, against his primary node, spurred him into action.

Hand still nestled within the nook of Mondatta's neck, slender digits caressed long, descending strokes down the vulnerable wires there, paying mind to the fact they were so sensitive. 73N knew this well, his own were sensitive to touch also, but unlike Mondatta's reaction, his personal experiences had not been so fortunate, nor were they nearly so pleasant. This, though? Oh this little accident piqued his curiosity well.

“L-like this?” Came the stuttered query, palms full of torrid static electricity.

Within him, the pressure was steadily rising, the inferno raging within his core threatening to utterly consume him and 73N could think of nothing better. That it would happen at Mondatta's hands made it no coincidence that he was so worked up. Slick and lewd, the wet sounds of their joining filled the air to accompany the unabashed moans and gasps pulled from them both amid the urgent frenzy while 73N did his best to reciprocate every sundering thrust, taking the other omnic impossibly deep in order to grind deliciously slow against his frame. Gone was the time for caution, for 73N could feel nothing of the worries that had assailed him before this moment; in their place was an urge that demanded satiating.

“Y-yes, please… Please…!” Mondatta’s voice was like music, sounding breathless and strained despite he didn’t breathe; it was another sign of what sort of precision went into creating him for the pleasure of humans. 

“It’s alright, don’t hold back… I’m close as well. My dear apprentice…!” The thrusts turned into short and quick, firm little stabs, assaulting the sensors deep inside 73N.

Even if he had wished to, 73N knew he could not hold back, the blissful pleasure and buffeting pressure within him had reached critical, it needed out, he needed release. All it took were a few, perfectly precise thrusts the headiness of it all from the weight of Mondatta’s frame above his own to the deliciously slick slide of the other’s cock dragging hard over each and every single one of his inner nodes. It was driving him over the edge and beyond!

And when that pressure began to overflow, Zenyatta was well and truly lost to it, pitched firmly into the cusp of his climax with a keening wail so profound, he initially couldn’t tell it had come from himself. 

_“Mondatta-ah!!”_

His inner walls clenched down hard, spasmodic around the length that plunged into him as a white-hot heat flooded 73N’s core, yet still he didn’t lapse in concentration over the persistent, gentle torture he was eliciting upon Mondatta’s wiring, a sudden snap of static catching them both off guard when it transferred from the younger to the other, sparks literally flying. Thick, gleaming ropes of translucent lubricant shot forth from 73N’s cock, which now rested heavy and twitching against his lower abdominal machinery, painting his parts faintly luminescent as a result. Optics flared and whited out to nothing but pure static ecstasy and he was vaguely aware that, for a time, he’d actually arched right up off the mat he had been resting upon. The younger omnic came back down to the ground with a sudden clunk, languishing, writhing in every wave of pleasure that washed through him, systems running so hot he was certain he would shut down.

Mondatta was only a few seconds behind, pulled along by 73N’s climax, the frantic reactions of his lithe frame. The older omnic let out a soft, almost melodious grunt, his whole body shaking as he tried to keep thrusting, riding on the waves of pleasure. His own, somewhat thicker lubricant concoction bathed his lover’s twitching insides in waves, some even leaking out - he had a lot to give. As the high tapered oft, Mondatta managed to not collapse but only barely; his servos seemed to be experiencing passing glitches, his arms shook. Steam leaked steadily from the vents aligning with his spine.

It took a couple of moments to recover and as he spoke up first, his voice was riddled with static. “Are you- are you alright?”

Slowly the younger omnic's mind drew back into focus, slowed by the perfect concoction of those last orgasmic ebbs and the pleasant release of his body venting the excess heat to regulate his systems once more. 73N could still feel everything with startling clarity, the hypersensitive nodes still plainly registering Mondatta's presence both against and within him, long before his aural sensors chose to acknowledge the sounds he made as words. Once they did, however, he tilted his head, lazily, up slightly and gradually allowed his optics time to adjust to the light.

Out of the ecstatic haze appeared Mondatta's familiar and welcoming faceplate, backlit by the bright light of the snow-kissed scenery streaming in through the window. 73N did not think it was possible for this omnic to look more stunning than he usually did, but it appeared he had witnessed just that. A simple nod of his head was accompanied by the whirr of tired servos, and a crackle of static – the last remnants of what was still slowly dissipating from his core.

But really, when Mondatta's student considered the question in the literal sense, he knew he hadn't been wrong in his affirmation: The burning he'd felt within was now sated, quenched well and truly, and for the first time in a very long time, 73N could _think clearly_.

“Y-yes..thank you, Master.” Elated and exhausted both, that chromium plated helm lolled back again until the back of his head rested against the floor, “That was...wonderful, so...I-I did not know it was possible to feel such things.”

One palm still rested at the back of Mondatta's head, nestled in the tangle of wires there. Carefully extricating his fingers, 73N gently pulled the other omnic's helm down to touch foreheads with his own, softly leaning up into the gesture.

“Thank you.” He stated, the quiver in his tones not born of the static they had earlier held. “I only hope I did not disappoint _you_.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mondatta chuckled, leaning into the contact as well. His hand gently cradled 73N’s head, a thumb brushing idly against the polished plating. 

“This was a magnificent experience and I’m glad I was able to show you another side of our purpose. I trust the failsafe will be dormant for a while. Would you… like to stay like this for a while longer? We’re not needed anywhere.”

Something playing across 73N's mind disturbed the stillness of his optic lights, causing them to blink independently for a few moments, only to settle back into their ever-present constant. It was an irksome trait, to betray one's thought processes, and he would learn to control one of these days, but today was not that day.

“I would, I do not believe I have the strength nor energy to convey me anywhere at the moment and - “ The delicate touch of the other's thumb prompted the quiet but steady purr of the young omnic's fans, “- I enjoy this closeness, your company.”

Was there shame to be found in that statement? 73N was uncertain. Mondatta's presence, as close as two beings could be in the physical realm, was a comfort and much, much more. Mondatta's student did not have the energy to form the omnic equivalent of a blush, the heat was still very much venting from him. Perhaps it was too much, such a bold and blatantly transparent statement, but he could neither bring himself to take it back, nor feel anxious that it was out there.

“I enjoy it as well,” Mondatta confessed. He carefully laid atop his apprentice, minding 73N’s slowly shrinking assets and trying not to pull out of him completely. Mondatta’s head settled in the crook of 73N’s shoulder, his body a secure weight against the slighter frame.

“It’s been a mere few weeks we’ve met,” Mondatta murmured. “Yet, I feel a certain familiarity. When idle, my thoughts drift towards you. Seeing you happy makes me happy, too… happier. I shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t pick favorites, a leader is to love each and every member of the community equally… Yet, I cannot help being drawn towards you. I’ll have to meditate on this.” He fell silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry for burdening you with my troubles.”

"They are no trouble to me." 73N replied, processors rapidly working over his feelings in order to comprehend the sudden swell he felt within his own mind. He only hoped it had not shown. 

"But I am unable to advise." The younger omnic's head rested back against the mat covered floor, cushioned by the rolled up swathes of fabric that comprised his discarded robes. "And for that I am deeply sorry, Master. These feelings you speak of, I… I have felt them in some capacity, in your presence." 

It was hard to deny, but 73N would have to settle for burying his faceplate in the crumpled robes out of embarrassment. 

"In light of this, do not believe I am the correct person to advise." 

Meditation for himself, then? And now the fail safe had been undoubtedly quashed for now, he would be able to draw proper focus. For now, though, all he wished to do was lay here, take in the afterglow and enjoy how connected he felt to Mondatta, both physically and mentally.

Minuted passed in silence while cold air and sharp sunlight streamed in. The whisper of the wind and the occasional noises of the daily life filtered in, serving as a soothing backdrop to troubled thoughts. Finally, Mondatta gently pulled back from his apprentice’s loose embrace. He did not wander far though, merely sat, one leg pulled up, arms propped up on his knee. Silently he watched the other, taking in every minute detail of the finely crafted frame. 

“You look so serene like this,” he murmured. “Sated and peaceful, bathed in morning light. So-” he trailed off and tilted his head to the side. “You know… we should find you a good name. 73N is not very personal and something just occurred to me, I think you’ll like it.”

Although he could not be certain the other was looking directly at him, 73N bore the weight of Mondatta's presumed gaze well. It comforted as well as the warmth of the morning sunlight, was as calming as the distant chiming of the many decorative bells strung up around the small out buildings, jostling slightly in the breeze. And in truth, he returned it forthwith, looking up at his mentor with just enough adoration that his core remained at it's current, warmly temperate state.

“A name of your choosing?” came his curious, happy chirp. He began pushing himself up to rest upon his elbows, resting in a state of semi recline. “Please, tell me.”

Mondatta joined him on the floor, mirroring his position. “You see, one of the words that came to mind when I was looking at you was ‘zen’. Now, look-” His fingertip began to trace lines on the floor. 

“Your designation is 7-3-N, which looks like ‘zen’, doesn’t it? The second part is 4114. If you try to turn it into letters, you can go for ‘a’ and ‘t’, because ‘i’ won’t yield a good result…” He chuckled. “Put it together, fiddle with it a little and you’ll end up with… Zenyatta. How does that sound?”

The younger omnic allowed the name to rattle around his mind for a few seconds, first finding Mondatta's reasoning amusing, evident in the blinking of his lights, then came the gentle acceptance of this offering. 

Zenyatta: Yes, he approved, he liked that very much. That the name had come from Mondatta served to make it special somehow. How, exactly, would elude the young omnic until much much later. 

So happy he almost issued a trill of excitement, Zenyatta pushed himself properly upright, but it did little to diminish his peaceful demeanor, the dappled light reflecting off his naked frame onto the walls of his modest abode. 

"I like it, Master." He enthused, "Very much so. I could not have done better." 

Thoughts had not yet turned to cleaning himself up, not the rest of the day's duties. Chores were the last thing on his mind in the wake of such bliss. Topping it off with the gift of naming only made him more satisfied. He would not regret coming here, Zenyatta thought, sparing Mondatta an admiring look; he really wouldn't. 

**Author's Note:**

> Word of advice: if you work with co-authors, ask them early if they're okay with posting the stuff. Then, even if they disappear, post the stuff. I found my co-author again because I did just that. =3


End file.
